Small Steps, Little Brother
by Gazing on the Arabesque
Summary: The State vs. Fawles trial ended with no winners. Only losers. It left scars on Miles Edgeworth, and Franziska von Karma will stop at nothing to find out why. Fredgeworth in a brother-sister sort of way.


Franziska was very happy in her new office. She had her own desk and her own chair set to the same height as her father's and Miles Edgeworth's (though her feet would dangle across the edge as opposed to resting firmly on the ground). People now had more of a reason to fear the von Karma name; there were _two_ von Karma prosecutors now… and Miles Edgeworth. It had been two months since her first case, which had coincidentally fallen on the same day as Miles Edgeworth's first case, and she was eagerly awaiting another. The von Karma name should have been enough to take on more cases, but, then again, not that many people felt comfortable trusting a thirteen year old with their problems. Of course, there was also the fact that she, a thirteen year old, had single-handedly taken down an old defense attorney with a ten year perfect win record, but many often overlooked that fact. For now, Franziska was bored out of her mind. She hated to admit it, but she had to rely on her father for new cases because her age was the only thing that prevented her from working.

Her office was connected to her father's and Miles Edgeworth's, and the three often used this to their advantage. Their desks were relatively close to each other, so they didn't have to shout when they wanted to communicate with one another. "Edwin Gallagher," Manfred von Karma was saying one day, "was murdered on the morning of April 21. The prime suspect is his wife Melissa Gallagher." He snapped his fingers. "Edwin Gallagher was a businessman who garnered a great amount of wealth by inventing and selling products in America. Last week, he and his wife Melissa celebrated his sixty-fifth birthday. Melissa, a twenty-three year old woman, allegedly poisoned his birthday cake. He died within seconds of taking the first bite." Franziska noticed Edgeworth stiffen slightly out of the corner of her eye.

"A foolishly foolish idea born from the foolish mind of a foolhardy foolish fool," Franziska scoffed.

"What is it, Franziska?" Manfred asked, his gaze drifting over to her.

"Melissa Gallagher obviously married Edwin Gallagher for his money," she pointed out. "That would explain the considerable age difference."

"In other words, she's a gold digger," Edgeworth clarified.

"That would supply a sufficient motive for murdering her husband," Manfred explained.

"Because she would get all the money when he died?" Franziska guessed.

"Exactly," Manfred said, nodding his head. Franziska scooted to the edge of her seat. Her father opened his mouth and she desperately wished that he would hand the case over to her. "Edgeworth, I would like you to take on this case." Franziska glowered at Edgeworth, and he pointedly ignored her.

"No," Edgeworth flatly refused. This didn't surprise Franziska in the slightest. She didn't know the full details of the situation, but she knew that Miles Edgeworth's first trial had been a complete and utter disaster and he wanted to stay as far away from the courtroom as possible… at least, that's what her father told her.

"Don't be ridiculous, Edgeworth," Manfred retorted. "You're a prosecutor. You can't stay away from the courtroom forever."

"I said no," Edgeworth said a little more firmly. Manfred von Karma sighed and stood up from his desk.

"I see there is no point in trying to convince you otherwise," he said a bit solemnly. "I am going out to shop for groceries. I will return shortly." And with that, he left the office.

"Hmph," Edgeworth grunted as soon as the door to the office slammed shut. "I thought he would pass on the case to you." Franziska glared at him.

"Foolishly foolish fool," Franziska practically growled. "I have to rely on Papa for my cases and you get them handed to you on a silver platter. You could _at least_ be a little more grateful." Edgeworth remained silent. Franziska stomped over to his desk and whacked his arm with her riding crop. He grunted and flinched in pain. "Don't ignore me, Miles Edgeworth."

"Calling people by their full name…" Edgeworth grumbled. "Can't you do something about that habit of yours?" She whacked him again.

"Don't avoid the question," she ordered." Edgeworth sighed in exasperation.

"What do you want, Franziska?" he asked a little irritably.

"I want to know what happened at that trial that made you want to stop working altogether," Franziska demanded. Edgeworth raised his eyebrows.

"Do I have to?" he asked, his voice almost pleading. Franziska nodded.

"Yes," she answered firmly. Edgeworth exhaled slowly.

"Are you sure you want to know?" he asked. "It's one story that doesn't have a good ending."

"You lost your first trial," Franziska replied, almost mockingly. Edgeworth shook his head.

"No I didn't," he refuted. "No verdict was given."

"But you still lost the trial," Franziska insisted. Edgeworth sighed.

"I suppose you're right…" he mumbled. "That trial didn't end with any winners. Only losers." He slammed his fist down on the table. "And the real killer got away…" Franziska raised her eyebrows.

"What happened?" she asked.

"The defendant was Terry Fawles," Edgeworth explained, "a man previously convicted for pushing his girlfriend Dahlia Hawthorne into the Eagle River. This time, he was charged for murdering Dahlia's sister Valerie Hawthorne." Edgeworth shook his head. "Fawles was innocent. I should have seen it from the beginning. But I didn't. There was so much evidence against him… I truly believed he was guilty. And when Miss Hawthorne showed up, asking if she could testify… I should have seen that something was clearly wrong then."

"Stop it," Franziska snapped. "Stop going on and on about what could have been. Just tell me what happened." Edgeworth nodded.

"Right," he answered. "Fawles' defense attorney was a woman named Mia Fey, a greenhorn working in Marvin Grossberg's law firm. Another lawyer, Diego Armando, stood up there with her. First, the homicide detective in charge of the case testified. Terry Fawles allegedly stole a car to meet up with Ms. Valerie Hawthorne at the Dusky Bridge. He had asked her to wear a white scarf so that he could recognize her. Then he killed her and stuffed her body in the car's trunk."

"Is that what really happened?" Franziska asked.

"No," Edgeworth replied. "There was a witness… Dahlia Hawthorne herself. She didn't want to reveal her true name to the court, so I let her testify under the pseudonym Melissa Foster. It turned out that she was the one who killed her sister. You see, Terry Fawles only wanted the truth, and Valerie Hawthorne was willing to tell him everything."

"What truth?" Franziska interjected.

"The three of them – Dahlia, Valerie and Fawles – staged a fake kidnapping," Edgeworth explained. "Mr. Hawthorne, Dahlia and Valerie's father, was a jeweler, and the three planned to make off with a two million dollar diamond. The diamond fell with Dahlia into the Eagle River and was lost forever."

"But if Terry Fawles was involved in the fake kidnapping, then surely he should have known everything he needed to know," Franziska assumed. Edgeworth shook his head.

"Not necessarily," he refuted. "On the side, Valerie conspired with Dahlia to frame Terry Fawles for the kidnapping. Valerie was a policewoman, and she shot Fawles in the shoulder and arrested him for 'murdering' Dahlia. Fawles was innocent all along; he only wanted to know why Valerie Hawthorne betrayed him in the first place."

"And?" Franziska prompted.

"Dahlia didn't want the truth getting out," Edgeworth continued, "so she silenced Valerie forever by murdering her. Then she stuffed her body in the trunk of the car Fawles stole to pin the murder on him." Edgeworth stiffened visibly. "Mia Fey almost proved Fawles innocent. She was so close to a not guilty verdict… but then Terry Fawles committed suicide. He drank poison out of a bottle necklace Dahlia had given him and died right then and there on the witness stand…" He massaged his temples. "Franziska, someone dying right in front of your eyes… I hope that's something you never have to see." For once, Franziska was at a loss for words. Part of her wanted to hug her little brother and tell him that everything would be ok. The other part wanted to hunt down Dahlia Hawthorne and strangle her.

"What happened to Dahlia Hawthorne?" Franziska whispered finally. Edgeworth glowered and slammed his fist down on the table.

"She got away," he snarled. "She must have pawned her bottle necklace off to someone else. That's the only way…" He sighed and shook his head. "I truly feel sorry for whoever has her necklace now. He's a dead man."

"Why?" Franziska asked.

"That necklace is a ticking time bomb," Edgeworth muttered. "Dahlia Hawthorne wasn't above killing her sister to maintain her silence, so naturally, she shouldn't feel guilty murdering some random person she pawns her necklace off to."

"But why couldn't the judge see through her?" Franziska questioned angrily, tugging on the ends of her riding crop.

"She charmed every man in the court," Edgeworth lamented. "Even myself, to a certain extent. I guess it helped that Fawles' defense attorney was female." Edgeworth laughed bitterly. "Look at me. I'm such a wreck after this case. Imagine how terrible Mia Fey must feel. Terry Fawles was _her_ client, after all." Franziska's eyes averted to the floor. She had no idea what to say to her little brother. She didn't know if she should have said anything at all. And then, suddenly, Manfred von Karma returned to the office.

"What are you doing over there, Franziska?" he asked.

"N-Nothing…" Franziska mumbled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear self-consciously. Manfred sat down at his desk and began to write something down on one of the papers on his desk. "Papa?"

"What is it Franziska?" Manfred asked, looking up momentarily. Franziska clutched her riding crop tightly.

"I wish to take on that case you were mentioning earlier," she announced. "The murder of Edwin Gallagher." She frowned in determination for emphasis. Manfred studied her face carefully.

"Franziska—" he began hesitantly.

"As shameful as it is, my age is the only thing preventing me from working right now," Franziska continued quickly, "which is why I want Miles Edgeworth to aid me in the investigation."

"What?" Edgeworth gasped, jerking his head upward.

"I see no problem with it," Manfred mused. He glanced down at his watch. "I seem to have forgotten something in the car. I will return momentarily." He left the office once more, letting the door slide shut behind him.

"I don't understand, Franziska," Edgeworth mumbled. "Why would you do that?" Franziska flashed him a genuine smile, one that she rarely, if ever, showed anyone.

"Small steps, little brother," she told him in what she hoped sounded like a soothing voice. "As I said before, you cannot stop working altogether because of one bad trial. You may not be ready to stand in court just yet, which is why I will assist you – or rather, _you_ will assist _me_ – for the time being." To her surprise, Edgeworth smiled, bent over, and ruffled her hair in that infuriatingly condescending, I'm-really-not-your-little-brother-and-you-know-it way.

"Thank you, Franziska," he said sincerely.


End file.
